


be there when they call me up

by transtwinyards



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 23:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12692169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transtwinyards/pseuds/transtwinyards
Summary: a quiet saturday night/sunday morning where aaron finds nicky asleep on the dining room table





	be there when they call me up

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [fucked up by the blame](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8805745) by [autisticandrewminyard (transtwinyards)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/transtwinyards/pseuds/autisticandrewminyard). 



> title from [brockhampton's jesus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKLplJIUhsU).
> 
> i'm trying to get back into the groove of writing short pieces. it's been Way too long. have this mini-fic that has _fucked up by the blame_ vibes.

The last time Aaron's lips touched alcohol was during the mass Uncle Luther insisted on, an hour before they buried his mom.

The wine had no effect, and Aaron was only given a sip. It was barely enough liquid courage to face the six feet hole about to swallow the only other blood relative he has that wasn't a murderer or exiled to Germany or Jesus fanatic.

And yet somehow, it was enough.

To this day, Aaron could never remember the blurry events that happened after he was told, over the phone, that his newly-minted, license-less brother had been in an accident with his drunk mother, that only one of them had been pulled out breathing, and _would it be okay to ask if they had any relatives or godparents so that they can send social services that way within the next few hours_?

Now, well, it's a Saturday night.

The floor is exchanging his up-from-bed body heat for the cruel cold of the tile of the kitchen floor. He's gripping the doorway, smoothing over the peeling wallpaper there, staring blankly at the way Nicky was balancing his head on his hand, elbow laying over the old notebook he was writing on.

The pen on Nicky's right hand laid flat on the surface of the notebook, only inches away from the uncapped bottle of Heineken on the dining table.

Aaron took a deep breath and tried not to sneer at the smell of cheap lights. He shuffled his way in.

The notebook Nicky was napping on had their expenses scrawled on it. There were dates underlined, new ink crossing out old ink, dates moving closer and closer to the current. The water bill was done, and so was the electricity.

That was apart from credit card payments and the mortgage and their allowances and food.

Nicky was paying it all with his part-time jobs, probably dealing here or there, maybe getting some help from Erik. Aaron wasn't new to the concept, having paid for his text books by pawning off some stuff, selling a few pills to his dealer for a couple bucks. They’d all be lucky to get a couple hundred for extra keeping, but they were not fortunate people, the Minyards.

God, okay, the cheap lights smell was bringing him back way further than he asked for.

He reached out and poked at Nicky's shoulder, taking a few steps back.

Nothing.

Huh. He was used to more violent reactions to even the slightest touches.

"Nicky," he called out, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to not be heard upstairs, lest he woke Andrew up. He stepped back into Nicky's space and shook him some more. "Hey, get rid of this shit and shower. You'll reek worse in the morning."

Nicky stirred, his hand dropping his head at Aaron's pushing. He grumbled, then blinked blearily up at Aaron. "Wha— _huh_?"

"It's 2 am, sleep on the bed or don't sleep at all."

Nicky swallowed, then made a face. _Exactly_ , Aaron thought. Hard liquor tasted worse in the mouth but at least he could push through with it instead of feeling like he could unearth all his nonexistent stomach-ly possessions with all the gagging involved.

"If it's 2 am, why are you up?" Nicky grumbled. His voice made him sound two degrees away from a fever and sore throat. Aaron tried not to think about whether or not they could afford having their only legal financial source be sick.

To reassure himself, Aaron feigned for support and reached out to touch Nicky by the shoulder, helping him stand and started the slow journey to Nicky's room on the first floor. "Nightmare," was his answer. He tried not to sigh in relief when he felt normal temperature under his hands.

Nicky grew silent. Aaron could hear his teetering-on-drunk-or-hungover brain try to come up with an appropriate response to his cousin's overt PTSD. There never really was, but Nicky was trying.

They reached Nicky's bedroom before he could form a response.

"It's alright," Aaron said, when Nicky started looking like he was regretting not saying anything. "I can handle it, I'm a big boy."

Proving he was still drunk, Nicky gave him a toothy smile. "Yeah, you're such a big boy, Aaron Michael."

Aaron rolled his eyes at the obvious jab at his height and left Nicky to clean himself up. He grunted his leave when Nicky sang good night at him. He slid over the floor back to the kitchen, planning on tidying up before going back to bed.

He grabbed a cup and placed it on top of the bottle to store in the fridge. The action, the smell, the sight of Nicky sleeping on the dining room table. It brought back unpleasant memories of a past that was swept under him like a rug.

But this wasn't unpleasant. Nicky wasn't his mother. He hadn't hit Aaron when Aaron tried to help, and he hadn't cursed Aaron out at the mere sight of his cousin. The Heineken wasn't rum, and the table wasn't covered in powder, it was covered in bills.

Andrew was upstairs, asleep, present as he was now as he was absent in the first few months he was officially a Minyard.

He calculated his savings from his allowance for the week on another part of the page, then ticked it off the total on the end of Nicky's notes. He closed it and dragged a chair towards the fridge, stowed the notebook away where Nicky usually kept it, thinking his cousins wouldn't know about it from that height.

When he got back to bed that night, he didn't dream again.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is @stubbornjerk. you can also check out my joint aftg blog @aceaaroniscanon and send prompts there. i'd be delighted to write some more.


End file.
